Absentmindedly
by HeyBulldogProductions
Summary: Absentmindedly, Freddie watched her walk away. Left hungry and heartbroken, he stood there in a gaze. He had to tell himself it was all an illusion of a temporary high, but was it? Or was Sam and him a reality? Seddie, possibly becoming multi-chapter


Absentmindedly

(Freddie's POV)

A swift stroke around the keys of my laptop presented random letters across the word document. Sighing in frustration, I grabbed a water bottle from my bedside table and sat up, placing my laptop to the side, stretching the wrinkles of my blue jean button-up shirt, and combing through my quiff a few times. The laptop that I held moments ago was now at the foot of my bed, mocking me. I gave it a good shove, sending it clinging to the end of my bed. I nearly gulped the entire bottle with one drink. The moist feeling across my lips felt lovely as I pursed them out a couple of times before spinning back on my bed and picking up my laptop once more.

"A love poem for English…oh, what to write…." This English poem was determined to nip me in the behind. In honor of Shakespeare's birthday, my English teacher decided to spice up our English class by having us each write a piece of poetry about love. Ah, love. Thou art a common enemy in the teenager world. Actually, love in the teenager world is mostly consistent of sex and infatuation. What a sad realization. There's only one couple I've ever encountered that wasn't like that. You may be wondering who, but at this point, I don't think that information is necessary.

The sound of something hard against the wood of my door pulled my head from the thought train tunneling through my head at the moment. My mother came in with a tray assorted with different contents to make tea with. Her floral upchuck of an outfit caused my stomach to flop a few times, so the tea was a good thing.

"You've been in this room for _hours_ working on that English assignment of yours. I figured you could take a five minute break to share some tea with me and maybe I could give you a dry shampoo tick treatment." I took a white tea cup off the tray as she sat next to me. The kettle felt warm in my hand and flowed the tea oh so precisely into the cup. A few cubes of sugar and a tea leaf also fell into the cup. Stirring the tea with the butt of a spoon, I shook my head.

"I think I'm past tick treatment, mom."

She heaved a sigh. "I suppose so. That beard you're growing shows how much of a man you're trying to become." Drinking her own brew of tea, her ring made a clicking sound against her cup. A mere chuckle at her comment escaped my esophagus before taking yet another sip of my perfectly blended tea compound.

"How's the poem coming along?"

"I'd be lying if I said it was coming easy. My brain is designed perfectly for math problems, technology errors, even spewing out history facts and chemical formulas. But when it comes to writing, especially about love, I'm clueless."

"Fredward, this isn't something your brain can figure out. Love is something only your heart can explain. Until you figure that out, that poem's not going to come easy." She exited the room, but not before planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I sipped my tea until the cup was empty before what she had said finally sunk in. My mom may be on the wacko side of the spectrum, but she was wise. What she said made absolute sense. I'm just not sure if I can allow my heart to take over until my brain has been drained for a bit. I left the cup on my bedside table and walked out of my room to find my mother back in the kitchen talking to T-Bo about some shelf paper for his closet.

"I'm gonna hang out at Carly's for a while to clear my head."

"Just be back before dinner, love you!"

"Love you too!" The three steps it took for me to get across the hall into Carly's apartment were a blur. Everything was. Then again, I'm never not used to remembering stuff. But I had to take my mom's advice and listen to my heart. Carly was inside with a pair of tweezers in her hand. Spencer was next to her with what appeared to be porcupine pins stuck to the right side of his face.

"What happ-?"

"Porcupines aren't cuddly as they look! Ow!" Spencer screeched from the couch. Carly gingerly plucked another one out.

"What's up?" She asked. Carly always had a sense of when something was up with me. Then again, I show what I'm feeling pretty easily.

"Nothing really. Sam here?" Carly rolled her eyes and pointed to the fridge. "She's currently sucking the marrow off some chicken wing bones."

"_Lovely"_ I sung high-pitched. As I ventured over to the kitchen myself, Sam was swaying a chicken bone side to side in her hand and writing down something on a piece of paper.

"Is that your poem for English class?"

"Yup!" She popped the 'P' harshly, her eyes never leaving the chicken bone. She had to flick her head to the side to get her hair away from her round face. Evidence of the wing sauce was visible on most of Sam's right cheek. Laughing to myself, I started to reminisce.

The taste of Sam's cheek whenever I'd give her a kiss there, the smell of her hair when we'd nuzzle, the playful smirk she disguised herself him when we Eskimo kissed, how her lips tasted different every time because of all the food she ate, even the vibrations of her laugh as I held her waist after a kiss. All of it came back in a mad flurry of passion. Then there was the stuff I couldn't feel. The stained eye makeup from when we broke up, she didn't know I saw her cry because of that. Truthfully, I did too. Love hurts sometimes, but it's the fact that we don't even remember our relationship as a couple that hurts the most.

My stomach had an acidic churn to it. I pressed my palms to the counter at full force and bowed my head low.

"What's up with you, Benson?" She asked finally setting the bone down. I snapped my head up, shaking it a bit to make a mess of my hair.

As she went to fix a bulk that fell in front of my face, I answered "nothing". She nodded then stepped back.

"I can't figure out what to write for my poem….wanna help me?"

"Freddie Benson, Mr. Straight-A's-since-kindygarden is asking _me_ for help on his homework." She turned around to Carly and Spencer. "Lady and gentleman, a round of applause, por favor?" Carly and Spencer clapped, trying to be careful about the needles being pulled out of Spencer's face.

"I'll explain once I get my laptop, be right back" I mumbled.

"Wait! I need to get my backpack from up there. I'll come with you." She started a mad dash for the elevator, blonde curls flying to and fro. Absentmindedly, I guided the small of her back into the elevator. It's really hard after having a girlfriend to break those gentlemen habits when it comes to your female friends. Some don't mind it; others think you're making a pass at them. Sam, she used to be my girlfriend. I couldn't do it no matter what, but it was absentminded.

We grabbed our stuff in silence and once again shuffled back into the elevator. Deep in thought, the turbulence I felt from the elevator's sudden halt shook me up a bit. I saw Sam's arm against the wall, backing away from the emergency stop button on the elevator. The vibrant electricity coursing through her was trying to process a thought, but what kind of thought?

"Freddie…" she started, but couldn't finish once she bit her lip.

"Is this about the English poem?"

"Not just that…The English poem's about…._love_, right?" She stuttered a few times over the L-word we had used just months ago in this very spot. It's just a word, right? Why does it posses so much power over us?

"Yeah, but I don't see-"

She cut me off instantly. "And you and I were…." She trailed off and deliberately refused to make eye contact with me. No matter how far I peered over, her hair shadowed over her face.

"_Were?_ In love."

"…Just, here!" She shoved an open notebook towards my abdomen, still hiding herself. I read the paper and almost stopped breathing:

_The battle always ends_

_One of us becomes the carnivore, the other the prey_

_Weak, undressed, exposed, malnourished_

_Some would even call us monsters, separately_

_Terrorizing, together_

_But you and I?_

_We call it love, call us love, and what we feel_

_Is the sensation of being in love_

_But the worst part?_

_We're in a situation where we don't know whose the prey_

_Who's the predator?_

_What if neither of us is?_

_Is it a lost battle?_

_Is love a lost battle?_

The notebook absentmindedly lowered to my thigh as my mouth hung open. I turned to the blonde, who was now looking at me, afraid. Letting gravity win the fate of the notebook, I leaned over fiercely and planted one of the softest and most gentle kisses on her lips. My right hand supported her mandible while my left ran its course across her back and even into the pockets of her jeans. Hers wrapped around me underneath my arms and clawed at my back. Every held in feeling we had outburst in that kiss. Our lips kept punching until a numb sensation drove us into overdrive and into a momentary high. We were hungry, very hungry. The more it hurt, the better it felt.

Once we broke away, I absentmindedly held her close as if she were my property.

Absentmindedly; I don't think so anymore. I tried going in for another helping, but she skidded off to the button on the elevator and pushed it. I tried stopping her, but it was no use. We'd reached the bottom floor before a hushed "sorry" escaped her lips.

Absentmindedly, I watched her walk away while I was left hungry.


End file.
